Heartbreak and Suicide
by Halfjaw101
Summary: Francis falls in love with the college girl Zoey, then softens to a Witch girl that he finds, seeing her like a daughter. Both of them are killed in his presence, leading to the ultimate end. FrancisxZoey M for sexual content, language, blood & gore
1. For When It Happens

Francis sighed, then rolled over again, staring up at the dark ceiling. Zoey had fallen asleep at least an hour ago. He knew he needed sleep, but found he was unable to get it. He rolled back onto his stomach, and pressed his face into the pillows, thinking maybe the added darkness would help. It only made it worse. He groaned, then jumped and exclaimed loudly when he felt fingers on the bare skin of his back. He rolled over, and scowled softly. "God damn it, Zoey! Don't do that!"

Zoey chuckled softly, sitting on her knees on the bed. She'd heard Francis moving about restlessly, and had decided to come in and try to help him fall asleep. "Did I scare you?"

Francis frowned, and scoffed. "Of course you didn't scare me. I just wasn't expecting you to do that."

Zoey grinned triumphantly. "I _did_ scare you, admit it!"

Francis rolled his eyes, then dropped his face into the pillows again. "Fine, okay, you scared me. Happy now?"

Zoey giggled. "Maaybe." Francis rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

He gasped when he felt her straddle him, her legs on each side of his hips, and start to play her fingers across his back. "What do you think you're doing?"

Zoey sighed. "Just relax. I'm trying to help you get some sleep."

Francis sighed, looked back at her, then relaxed under her. Her fingers started feeling good, and his eyes slowly drooped. "Where the hell did you learn this?"

Zoey smiled. "Home. You like?"

Francis grunted and smiled softly, slowly falling into unconsciousness. Zoey stopped once she heard his soft snoring, and smiled. She carefully climbed off of him back onto the bed. She dropped one leg to get off, then turned, looked back at him, and smiled. She shrugged, then laid down on that side of the bed, sighing and drifting off to sleep.

Francis woke slowly, blinking, and sighed. He vaguely remembered what Zoey had done for him the other night, and smiled. He went to move, felt a resistance on his arm, and frowned. He looked to the side and froze. Zoey had apparently not gone back to the other bed, but had fallen asleep in this one. Some time during the night, they'd tangled themselves up in a cuddle. She was using his arm and chest as a pillow, and he was holding her to him. He carefully lifted her, and moved his arm. He laid her back down as gently as he could, then got up. He walked out of the room, down the hall, and into the bathroom.

When he was done, he walked back into the room, and sat on the bed, watching her sleeping form. She was actually very pretty, and still carried a child-like cuteness when asleep. She looked innocent, not like she should be in the world she was. For a second he pitied her, then the pity turned into admiration. This college girl was doing a damn fine job of surviving the zombie apocalypse. When he'd first met up with her, she'd been a mess. And a poor shot. She'd also been scared of him. Now... well, he didn't know how she felt now. He just knew how he felt about her. He wanted to make sure she was safe, protecting her, so much as giving up his own safety to make sure she was okay. And, in a way... he loved her.

He shook his head, then turned, and pulled his boots over. He started pulling one on, then felt fingers on his back again. He turned his head. "Mornin', sleepy." Zoey grinned back, her hands on his shoulders. "Morning, big guy. How you feel?"

He smiled softly, pulled the boot on, and straightened. "Nice and rested. You?"

She smiled. "Same. You make a good pillow."

Francis' smile faded, and he looked away, not responding. Zoey frowned, and leaned on his back, looking at him. He gently shrugged her off. Zoey's frown deepened. "Francis? What'd I do?"

Francis looked at her. "You haven't done anything. This is for what I fear _I'll_ do."

Zoey frowned even deeper, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "And what's that?"

He sighed and hung his head. "Zoey, do you know what a man's second hunger is?"

Zoey looked at him, then nodded. "I... think so. The hunger for women, right?"

Francis nodded. "Yes, the hunger for women. What you've been doing..." He sighed and trailed off, looking down, then reaching for the other boot.

Zoey stopped him. "What I've been doing...?"

Francis sighed, pulled the boot close, then worked it onto his foot. "It's been making me hungry." He got up, and walked to the dresser.

Zoey frowned, then followed. While he worked over his things, she hesitantly walked in front of him, making him look at her. "Francis?" He grunted, looking away. She made him look at her again. "What exactly is wrong with you getting 'hungry'?"

He looked down at her, uncertainty in his eyes. "If I'm 'hungry' for you, Zoey, I won't be able to protect you as well as I can. I'll be clouded with a want of you. Do you understand that?"

Zoey sighed softly, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, pressed against him. Her brows shot up, and she pulled away, looking at him. "You... weren't kidding, were you? About you getting hungry."

Francis looked away and shook his head. "No, I wasn't. And I never will be." He pushed her back and out of the way gently, then resumed checking his belt and weapons, taking a cloth and wiping his axe down.

Zoey frowned, looking at him, blinking rapidly as she felt her eyes start to get moist. She looked away and shook her head, clearing her throat. "Wh- whatever." She walked out of the room, her hand wiping across her eyes.

Francis frowned deeply. "Damn it, Francis," he said to himself softly. "Why do you always go and hurt her?" He walked after her, stopping at the doorway.

The door was closed. Behind it, he heard crying. He knocked on the door. "Go away!"

Francis cringed. He'd hurt her pretty badly if she was telling him to go away. So he did exactly the opposite: he opened the door and took a step in. "Zoey?"

Zoey was mostly on the bed, her face in the pillows, her shoulders heaving. She threw a pillow at him, but didn't look at him. He bent down, grabbed the pillow, and stood, walking over. He sat next to her, where her legs fell off the bed. He put his hand on her leg and rubbed gently. "Zoey..." he started. She kicked at him, and hit him square in the jaw. He jerked and grunted, holding his jaw. "Ow... Zoey, I'm sorry. I... don't want to see you hurt. And if anything happened between us... I'm afraid I won't be as efficient."

Zoey didn't kick at him again, which he was glad for, but she also didn't look at him. That he didn't like. He gripped her thigh in his hand gently, rubbing softly. "Zoey... please look at me?"

Zoey's crying softened, and she pushed herself up. She turned and looked at him. Her eyes were red already. He held his arm out invitingly, question in his eyes. She sighed and crawled over to him, then cuddled against him, finishing her crying against his chest. He stroked her hair. He didn't like seeing women cry; in fact, he hated it. But seeing Zoey cry nearly tore his heart out.

She finished her crying, but stayed where she was. She looked up at him for a while, and noticed a bruise was appearing where she'd kicked him. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching up and touching it.

Francis shrugged. "It's nothing. Just a bruise."

Zoey frowned. "Francis, I know it hurts. You don't have to play tough guy on me. I know you have a soft side in there somewhere."

Francis sighed, and looked down at her. He leaned his forehead against hers. "You're going to do what you can to see that side, aren't you?"

Zoey grinned. "Yes, Francis, I am." She sighed, and dropped her gaze.

"Come on, Zoey. We've got to get moving." Zoey sighed and nodded. She patted his chest gently. "Get your shirt and vest, big guy. I need my guide and protection. Even the zombies know by now they'll die worse if they touch your vest."

Francis chuckled softly. He stood, holding her. She giggled when he put her down. She hugged him tightly, burying her face against his chest and inhaling deeply. "Thank you, Francis."

"For?" Zoey smiled softly. "Everything."


	2. Rejection

It'd been two hours since their little scrape in the safe house, and Zoey's mood had improved greatly. Constantly she told him she heard Witch cries, but everytime he listened, it was silent. Until some other zombie filled it. Francis sighed, and looked around, his finger hovering on the trigger. The damn Hunter had him on fried nerves, and he had nothing to calm them. Except for talking to Zoey. Or, really, Zoey talked to him. "Francis, what was your life like before the Infection?"

He frowned. "Well... I was in a biker gang. Hell's Legion. Gangs are as gangs are. Not much to tell. How about you?"

Zoey was quiet for a while. "Well, I attended college. All I did really, though, was watch zombie movies."

Francis burst out laughing, having to stop to hold himself up. Zoey put her hands on her hips and frowned down at him. "And what is so funny?"

Francis got himself under control and looked up at her. "Oh, sorry Zoey. But that's just kind of ironic. Watching zombie movies, and here we are, in a damn zombie apocalypse."

Zoey kept her frown, but then it started fading, and she herself laughed. "Fine, I guess it is kinda funny."

The Hunter growled again, then screamed. He looked around, and saw it just as it landed on Zoey. She screamed. The Hunter froze, then covered its ears, screaming as well. Francis blasted its head into pieces, then ran over to Zoey and helped her up. "Are you okay?"

Zoey looked at him. Francis' face was a big dose of worry. She nodded. "I'm fine... just shaken."

He nodded, and held her as she regained balance. She turned and jerked at how close his face was. She blushed softly, then pulled away, gently unhooking his hands from her waist. "Let's, uh... let's get moving."

Francis frowned softly, and cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah."

He picked his shotgun up, dusted it off, and straightened. Zoey was standing where she'd been before, and looked like she was listening hard. He opened his mouth to ask her what she was listening for when her petite hand reached up and slapped it over his mouth. He frowned, then sighed. She turned and looked at him. "You don't hear that?" she mouthed.

He listened hard. A faint moaning sound wavered out, then stopped. It was quiet for a long time. Then it sounded again. He looked at her. "Witch?" he asked softly.

Zoey nodded. "I think so. And it sounds like she's following us..."

Francis scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Zoey. Infected are no-brain bastards, Witches included. They aren't smart enough to follow. We probably just passed her by when she was quiet."

Zoey shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Yeah, she's quiet for a long time between sobs, but not long enough for us to have completely passed her by."

Francis shrugged. "Whatever. Let's get going. That crying's giving me the creeps."

Zoey sighed and nodded. Personally, she wanted to wait up for the Witch. Francis didn't. And she didn't want Francis to not be there when the Witch came, in case she was wrong. "Alright, fine."

She started off, Francis close behind. The crying kept up with him, and was now literally giving him the creeps. Goose bumps rose on his flesh. He wrung his shotgun, his knuckles turning white. Zoey put her hand on his wrist, and he looked at her. She smiled softly. "Relax. She's not attacking."

Suddenly, the Witch in the background screamed. It was worse than the normal screams; this scream was of pure terror. Francis whirled around, then heard gunshots. Pain was added to the terror. Francis jerked to run back, looked at Zoey, then sprinted towards the screaming. He wanted it to stop. It sounded like someone was shooting a Survivor. Were it not for the previous sobbing, he'd think they were.

Zoey sprinted after him, unable to go quiet as fast but able to keep up. Francis ducked into the building they'd just come out of, running threw it, hopping the counter. He burst through the back door, and the screaming was deafening. Francis saw a guy in green aiming a rifle at a huddled figure. The figure shot out from where it was crouched, and Francis saw it was a Witch. She saw Francis, screamed, and turned, running into a black guy. The black guy stumbled slightly, then hit the Witch with his gun. She stumbled back, her nose bleeding, and fell. She screamed in pain again, holding her nose. The black guy strode over, leveled his hunting rifle, and went to shoot. On impulse, Francis charged forward and hit him just as he fired. The round dug into the cement a few inches from the Witch's head. She screamed in fear and rolled, getting up and stumbling into Zoey. Zoey caught her gently, looking at her. She screamed and tried to pull away. Zoey held on to her arms. "No, no, it's okay."

The Witch stopped and stared at her. Her eyes were so _human_. It was slightly disturbing how human those eyes were, in a body so... different. Two shots rang out, and the Witch jerked and screamed again, hiding behind Zoey. The old guy in the green walked forward, aiming the M16 at both girls. "Get out of the way, girl."

Zoey stood her ground. "Stop trying to kill her! Can't you see she's different?"

The old guy scowled. "Different means more dangerous, young lady. Now move, or I'll shoot _through _you."

Francis leveled his shotgun, the barrel mere inches from the old guy's temple. "You shoot her, I blast your fuckin' head off."

The old guy swallowed, then slowly lowered the M16. The black guy still had the hunting rifle trained on the Witch, and had a clear shot. He took it, and fired. A neat hole appeared in the Witch's gut, and blood spurted out. Then she started bleeding, but the blood ran slowly. She screamed and howled in pain, falling down and arching her back, rolling. Pained crying joined the screams.

Francis whirled, fisted his hand, and punched the black guy in the nose. Zoey collapsed next to the screaming girl, got out her medkit, and started trying to help. The Witch struggled, screaming something sounding very much like "NO!" She finally got to where could stand, then turned and ran away, a large hole leaking blood in her back. Zoey got up to run after her, but Francis quickly grabbed her arm. "No, Zoey..."

The old guy interrupted him. "Let the bitch go. She'll curl up and bleed out somewhere away from us."

Zoey glared at the old guy. "You son of a bitch!" He jerked, surprised. "She was just a little girl!" Zoey continued, actually crying. "She wasn't a normal Witch! She was just a little girl!"

The old guy looked at her oddly. Zoey turned into Francis and hid her face. He held her protectively as she cried. This was just not a good day for her. He stroked and patted her back softly, swaying gently.

"Name's Bill," the old guy said.

Francis scowled. "What makes you think I care what your name is?"

Bill looked at him, puffing at a cigar. "Actually, young man, I think you do. You'll be needing to know it."

Francis frowned. "And why is that?"

Bill straightened. "'Cause we're leaving together as a group of four."

Francis started laughing softly. "Like hell we are. I'm not going to go waltzing around with a man too blind to tell a girl from a Witch."

Bill frowned, gripping his M16. "I'm not joking, boy. A pair is too vulnerable. And that was no girl. She was a Witch."

Zoey turned around, angry again. "That's why she was trying to escape from you? That's why her cries and screams sound normal?"

Bill frowned softly. "All I heard was Witch moans."

Francis nodded. "That means you're blind _and _deaf."

Bill scowled. "No, I'm not. I saw Infected, I heard Infected; I shoot Infected."

Francis grabbed Zoey's arm, but it was more to keep himself back than her. "C'mon, Zo, we're leaving. There is no way in an effin' frozen Hell I'm pairing up with them."

Zoey hurried next to him. "Francis? Francis, what if that Witch comes back? What if she comes back and they're still there?"

Francis sighed. "Then god rest the poor girl's soul. C'mon. Safehouse ain't far ahead."

Zoey nodded and sighed, keeping up with him. She turned around. Bill and the black guy were following them, trying to catch up but trying to make it sneaky as well. "Francis, they're following us..."

Francis scowled. "Doesn't matter. They won't catch up in time. We'll just lock them out."

Zoey sighed, and nodded. "Francis...? Maybe... maybe grouping up with them isn't such a bad idea. I mean, there's more guarantee for safety-"

"More people to watch out for, learn, and protect. No."

Zoey sighed. "Okay." When they neared, they ran, and slammed the door shut. They got cursed at for a while, then the other two shut up.

Francis sighed after Bill and the black guy shut up. "Thank God. I thought they'd never give it a rest." He walked into the main room.

There was something like a couch in the middle. Zoey was sitting on it. She stood when he came in. "They gone?"

He shrugged. "I just know they're quiet."

Zoey walked over to him, and messed with his vest for a second. "You still hungry?"

Francis looked at her, a frown in his eyes. "I told you, I always will be."

Zoey smiled seductively. "How about I... sate that hunger? Hands?"

Francis did frown this time. "No."

Zoey shrugged. "Okay. I'll service."

Francis' frown deepened. "No. I told you, if any-" Zoey pulled his head down to her level and pressed her lips to his. He stopped mid-sentence, blinking rapidly, barely having time to think _What the hell?_ before she was kissing him again, pushing on him. He found himself kissing her back, stumbling backwards. He hit the couch and fell on it. Zoey was more or less pulled onto his lap, straddling him. She smothered him with kisses, and each and every time, he found himself kissing her back. His reason evaporated - he suddenly wanted to agree with her. Get something. Sate the hunger.

Almost as if she could read his mind, she undid his belt, still kissing him. Her kisses were like a drug: as long as she kept kissing him, he was more or less willing. She got his belt undone, then worked on his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them. Her fingers touched his waist as she went to pull his boxers down, and he jerked and moaned, a blast of a feeling he hadn't felt in years flying from his groin to his brain. Her hand slipped under, and wrapped around him. She started moving her hand, her tongue in his mouth. He moaned, and gripped her arms, his fingers slowly going towards her breasts, sucking on her tongue.

Somewhere, deep down, he heard _**If this happens, you won't be able to protect her as efficiently. What if she gets hurt? **_Reason slammed into him like a semi going 80 transporting a few tons of bricks. With a loud, angered cry, he grabbed what he could. Unfortunately, that was her neck. He tightened his grip, shoved her back, and let go. Then he froze, breathing hard, staring at her in horror. His fingers left giant red marks on the delicate, white skin of her throat. She was crying, looking at him.

He stumbled back, tripping over the arm of the couch and falling down, landing hard. He scrambled back and stood. He looked at his hand, then at her neck. It had already started bruising. "I'm... Zo, I..." He turned, sprinted down the hall, and went in one of the rooms, slamming the door. He leaned against the wall, and slid down. He put a hand over his eyes and started crying.


	3. Saving the Witch

She gasped, holding her stomach, and leaned against a wall. Her legs shook; she tried to use the wall to keep her up, but failed. Her legs gave out, she stumbled forward, and fell. She rolled over onto her side, crying and gasping, trying to block out the roaring pain. The blood had stopped leaking as she ran, but now it started again. She curled up, her heart beating three times as fast, red pooling in her vision. She blinked, watching her vision grow narrower and narrower, until finally, blackout.

For ten seconds after blacking out, her heart didn't pump. It'd overworked itself. Then it started again, at half it's normal rate. She'd just entered Hibernation to try and let her body heal.

She was only in Hibernation for about twenty minutes. Then her heart quickened, and she woke. Some of the pain was gone, but she was also numb. She slowly stood, tears falling, and turned. She wanted to find that woman who tried to help her. _Why didn't I just stay with her? She would've protected me. The big man, too._

She stumbled forward for two hours. Nothing looked familiar. Her brain was fried, which didn't help, and the pain was back, which only made it worse. She started breathing heavier, wheezing. That's one reason she didn't hear the growling. Another was because she wasn't listening for it. Infected had never attacked her before, so she just didn't let it register. She didn't know she had a Hunter after her until the claws hit her shoulders, throwing her through a window, and landing in a dark building, sliding into a mass confusion of boxes and shelves.

She blinked in confusion, the darkness quickly clearing into day. She saw the Hunter; saw his face, his malevolent grin, the disgusting glint in his eyes. She frowned softly, and tried to push him off, since he wasn't clawing. But he held her. He reached up and jerked on something, and she felt some mass weight fall on her arms. She gasped and screamed, trying to pull her arms out from whatever it was. It was a large metal shelf; it was heavy and painful.

The Hunter smiled, then raised a claw. She winced, afraid he was going to claw her, then gasped when she felt his claw gently touch her cheek and start sliding down. She opened her eyes, and watched him fearfully. He dragged his claw down her cheek, not cutting her, then down her throat, and finally, to her chest. He went off to the side, circling his claws over her nipples. She gasped loudly, feeling them get stiff. He ran his claws across her board-flat chest, playing with the other.

She started crying, knowing what he was going to do. He was playing with her non-existent breasts right now; she'd watched enough TV before to know this was going to lead to the worst: rape.

He growled softly, then gripped her shirt and tugged on it. It tore open, revealing her chest. He started playing with her again as she struggled and screamed and cried. She got her legs up and kicked him off as she felt his claws wander to her panties and try to pull them down. He snarled, crouched in front of her, forced her legs apart. He stuck a claw into the meat where groin and thigh met, then started dragging it up, slicing her skin in a sick, sideways grin, going until the two sides of the wound almost met. Then he pulled his claw out. She screamed her lungs out, crying and screaming in pain, feeling like he was sticking a red-hot stoker into her leg.

He grinned, then grabbed her underwear and ripped them off. He touched her. She moved away, still crying hard in pain. He snarled, held her down, and touched her again. She arched her back, trying to pull away. He then shoved a claw into her.

She screamed her loudest again, arching high off the ground. He grinned widely, his eyes glinting. He pulled his finger out, dragging his claw against the muscle inside, splitting that as well. She screamed again, her throat sore. He reached up his own body, hooked his claws into his pants, and pulled them down. She looked away, waiting for him to enter.

The Hunter growled maliciously, then shoved roughly into her without warning, then started pounding. She sucked in a deep breath, and screamed.

(Francis)

Francis paused, hearing screams. He got up, and walked to the door. Those screams... the Witch! He turned to tell Zoey, and saw she was asleep on the couch. He sighed, then opened the door, closed it behind him, and started sprinting towards the screams. Something wasn't right about those screams... they were worse than when Bill and the black guy were shooting her. What could be worse than being shot?

He skidded to a stop in a courtyard, listening hard. He heard the crying, then a scream again. He looked around, and spotted a broken window; the screams were coming from there. He ran towards it, flicked the flashlight mounted on his shotgun on, then crept in. He wanted to catch whatever was hurting her by surprise. She screamed again, and he cringed. It was damn close. He walked a few feet forward, then saw movement off to the side. He turned, and his eyes widened; he almost dropped his shotgun.

A few feet off to his side was a Hunter. This Hunter was on top of the Witch he was looking for, her legs forced to the side, moving roughly against her.

He roared, shoulder rammed it off and out of her, then pointed his shotgun at it and held the trigger down. He ended up emptying all ten shots into it, and by the time he was out of shells, there was almost nothing left of the Hunter's body except bits that had flown off, and his lower legs.

He turned, looking at the Witch. She was trapped under a shelf, crying, bleeding badly. She was also completely naked. Softening instantly from what she'd been through, he walked over and gently laid a hand on her stomach. She screamed in fear, and tried to shy away. Francis held her gently. "No, no, it's okay. I got him... he's dead. You're safe now."

He reached over, grabbed the shelf, and lifted, grunting at it's hidden weight. He lifted it off her arms, then shoved. It slammed down onto the ground inches above her claws.

Francis took his vest off, then his shirt. He gently lifted the limp Witch, slid his shirt over her. He slid his hand under her legs, then lifted her, holding her close to his chest. He looked down at her, and she looked up at him, her eyes blank and dead-looking. "It's okay," he said softly, and started walking back. "Nothing's going to hurt you anymore... I got ya."

He watched her blink, and a little life returned to her eyes. Then she went completely limp, and fainted in his arms.


	4. A Final Relationship

Francis arrived at the safehouse again. He shifted the limp body in his arms to where he could hold her with one, then opened the door, and walked in, closing it firmly behind him and snapping the bar back in place. He walked in, considered waking Zoey so he could lay the Witch on the couch, then sighed. He'd hold her until she came to, or... no. He'd wake Zoey.

He walked over, the Witch still in arms. He gently shook Zoey. "Zoey," he said softly. "Zoey, wake up."

Zoey jerked. "Who... huh?" She opened her eyes, looked up at him, and gasped, her eyes widening. "Francis, what did yo-?"

Francis put a hand over her lips. "It wasn't me. A Hunter was..."

The word stuck in his throat. He hated it... it was such a cruel thing to do, especially to a helpless little girl. Zoey stood, realizing the reason of his waking her. He knelt and gently laid her on the couch, then got a first aid kit. He lifted his shirt up, moved her legs, and started bandaging the ugly, gaping wound the Hunter had left. Zoey's eyes widened again. "Wh... what was a Hunter doing that caused _that_?"

Francis sighed, finished bandaging it, then cut and tied the gauze. He blinked, and looked at her, then back at the Witch. "He was raping her..."

Zoey gasped and looked at the Witch. Her skin was a grayish color, and her limbs were bones. She looked at her ribs through the neck-hole of Francis' shirt. They stuck out like xylophone pieces. She sat on the edge of the couch and gently stroked the poor girl's hair. "God... it's not bad enough she was partially Infected and shot at. No... a Hunter rapes her, too..."

Francis looked at her, then got up, cleared his throat, and wiped his fingers under his eyes. Zoey looked up at him. "Are you... crying?"

Francis frowned softly, and knelt again. "No, I'm not crying. I just had Hunter guts in my eyes."

Zoey blinked, then shrugged. She watched the girl, still stroking her hair. She smiled softly when the Witch's eyes slowly opened. The first thing she saw was Francis.

She gasped, then pulled herself back and looked around, breathing hard, her heart pounding. Her gaze ended on Francis. It was he that'd saved her; it was his face that let her register safety. Her breathing and heart settled as she looked at him.

Francis smiled softly, watching as she calmed down. "Hey there. How ya feelin'? I mean, aside from what just happened..."

She rose into a sitting position, her hands moving to her stomach. "I'm... better...?"

Francis' eyes widened. "You... you can talk?"

She nodded, crying softly. "With consequence..."

Zoey looked at her, reaching forward and gently stroking her hair. She jerked and looked at her. Zoey smiled softly. "What consequence?"

She looked away, not answering. She then started crying harder. She held her throat, then looked like she was vomiting. She held her mouth closed. Deep, thick, red blood started leaking between her lips, dribbling down her chin and over her hand. Francis jerked, and looked at her. He gently pulled the blankets out from under her, leaving something that looked like a towel. "It's okay... let it out. Don't try to keep it in."

She looked at him, then dropped her hand and opened her mouth slightly, looking down. A thick stream of blood poured out of her mouth, hitting more of herself than the fabric beneath her. Soft sobs escaped from her, but it sounded like she was trying to keep it quiet. He quickly traded places with Zoey, then pushed himself back to the back of the couch. He held her arms, 'hugging' her tightly but gently. "Let it out. Don't hold it back," he said softly.

Her crying got louder until it was like a normal Witch's sobs, only more pained. She cried until the blood stopped, about ten minutes later. By then, most of the shirt, her legs, and the towel were _**soaked**_ in blood. She leaned back into him, calming down, her eyes closed. She looked disturbingly pale. He rubbed her cheek softly, then felt her forehead. She didn't feel feverish, but she was clammy and sweaty. "Do you need anything?"

She blinked, looking up at him, her eyes a weird ashen forest color. "Water...? Food...?"

He looked up at Zoey. "Do we have any water?"

Zoey searched through their supplies. "About six bottles." She picked one up and tossed it to him.

He opened it, then held it in front of her. She leaned her head forward, then reached up and pushed against the bottom, tilting it while he held it. She took a little drink, then pushed it away, swallowing and grimacing. Her neck and a ways down her chest were horribly bruised, like someone had throttled her repeatedly, then ran a knuckle up and down her chest for about an hour.

It looked like it hurt to drink. She took about half the bottle in about twenty minutes. When he went to tip it again, she shook her head. "Any... food? Sugar?"

Francis frowned. "Um... I'm not... sure. Zoey?"

Zoey shrugged. "Not in our supplies. Maybe in the 'kitchen'?"

Francis shrugged. "Maybe. I'll go check."

He moved to get up, then arched a brow when the Witch grabbed his arm. He looked down at her. "Don't go...?"

Francis looked at her for a while more, then settled back onto the couch, smiling softly. "Alright. Zo?"

Zoey smiled. "On it." She got up and walked off into another room.

The Witch sighed, then leaned back against him, snuggling slightly and closing her eyes. Francis coughed uncomfortably, trying to position himself to where he was just holding her again. Even after that, she snuggled against him again. He sighed. "I give up..."

The Witch frowned, then pulled away, leaning up against the back of the couch. He looked at her, frowning softly. "Sorry," he muttered.

She leaned against him again as if saying 'it's okay'. He looked at her. "So... what's your name?"

She smiled softly. "Allie..."

Zoey came back, smiling. "There's _a lot _of sugar. How much does she need?"

Francis looked at her. "A lot."

Zoey nodded, and came over, holding a one pound bag. Francis took it, smiling, then tore it open. He held it in front of Allie. Her eyes snapped to it. He scooped out a palm full, then held it in front of her mouth. She gripped his wrist with one claw, then gently pressed her hand under his. She dipped her head and started licking the sugar up. He watched her. Her tongue was longish and almost serpentine, coated with sugar when she pulled it back into her mouth. He scooped up more when she was done, and continued until the whole bag was gone. Then she yawned, stretched, and laid against him. A few moments later, and she was snoring softly, already asleep.

Francis smiled, then got up, gently pulling her to the arm of the couch and lying her against some pillows, keeping her partially upright. He turned around, then gasped and jerked when Zoey tugged his head down and kissed him deeply. He suppressed the urge to reach down and shove her back, letting her pull away on her own. She smiled softly, then kissed him again gently. Francis automatically kissed her back. When she put her hand on his chest and kissed him again, a warning bell went off inside his head. He ignored it, reached up, and gently took her hand in his, holding it.

She smiled, encouraged. She pressed against him, rubbing his other arm. Francis' reason backed up the warning bell. He gripped her wrists and looked at her. "Zoey," he growled, looking down at her. "I said no."

Zoey sighed in frustration. "Francis. It won't make you less efficient. It won't make it worse, but better. It'll bring _happiness _into this messed up world... a least, for us."

Francis sighed, an internal war raging. He wanted her, badly, almost more than he wanted to be away from the zombies. But he also wanted her safe, and a sexual relationship could jeopardize that. "Zoey, I just-"

"Don't want to be less efficient, I know."

"-Want you to be safe," he finished, letting go of her arm and stroking her cheek.

She looked up at him, smiling softly, and put her hand on his. "I will be safe. Thanks to you. Francis, I could hit you with an elephant-dose of sedative and you'd _still _keep me safe the whole time. You will never not keep me safe, 'till after evac, when protection is no longer needed."

Francis rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "I'll protect you even then."

Zoey sighed, but smiled. "And the Witch?"

Allie. Francis glanced over at the sleeping scrap of girl. She was in terrible condition. "Her too. Neither of you will ever leave my mind."

Zoey kissed him again. "Please, Francis? You know you'll feel better after. Not as... hungry."

Francis growled softly, and studied her, but smiled. He sighed, and gained a fatherly air, permission and sarcasm in his voice. "Very well. I suppose you can feed me. Just not... too much."

(Allie)

She breathed as softly as she could, trying to keep the amount of strain on her stomach - and torso in general - to a minimum. She listened to her wheezing, too tired to do anything else. Aside from her wheezing, she listened to the people who'd saved her life. Zoey and Francis. They were talking to each other softly, about a lot of things: happiness, protection, her, and hunger. Hunger? Then she heard kissing. At first it sounded normal. Then the parting sounds started getting further apart. Then she heard something else. She frowned and opened her eyes. She looked around the room, then found them. Zoey had her hands on either side of Francis' head, and she was pressed against him tightly. His hands were on her waist.

She blinked, clearing her vision as it fuzzed. Their lips parted for a second, and her eyes widened. Zoey's tongue and Francis' tongue were in each other's mouths. She looked away and shuddered softly. She then looked back. Francis' hands were _under _Zoey's shirt, gripping her breasts. Zoey's hands were working on his belt and pants. She blinked rapidly. What were they doing? Why? Why _here_? _Especially _considering the way Francis had found her - in that building, led there by her screams, the Hunter on top of her, scarring her emotionally, physically, and mentally as he cut and raped her.

She looked back at them, and groaned softly. They were both naked, and Francis was getting ready, lying them both down. Even if she did look away, didn't watch, she'd hear them. She dragged her hands up to her face and covered it. She started crying, keeping herself silent. They wanted to be happy... a little pain on her side was a fair enough exchange. She started crying harder when they started moaning. Still she stayed silent. Life was unfair... but then again, what wasn't?

(Francis; Zoey)

Francis gently laid them down on the mass of blankets that had been on the couch, supporting himself above her. He ran a hand down her naked body, and she moaned softly. She was so tiny and delicate. He pressed his lips against her neck, kissing a sucking gently. She giggled at first, his Van Dyke-style beard tickling her throat. She then moaned as he started sucking on her skin. She moved beneath him, and he smiled, continuing, encouraged.

Zoey rubbed his arms and gripped his shoulders. She arched her back, reaching up and pressing against him. As if attacked to her waist, he lowered as she did. He grinned softly. The grin was mirrored in his eyes, so she could see it. Zoey felt him part his lips more, like he was making to suck on her skin again. She moved her head, exposing more of her throat. Francis grinned, then bit her throat gently and slid into her at the same time. She gasped and moaned loudly, holding his head and arching her back. He started moving, lowering himself until their bodies were rubbing together, gripping her arms.

Zoey moaned almost constantly, rubbing his head, arms, and back, gasping whenever he bit her neck. Sensations flew through her body from everywhere. His beard, lips, teeth, and tongue sent a flurry from her throat; his moving and general being marching an army from her groin; his fingers sending sparks from where ever they happened to be. Francis bit her neck again, hearing and feeling her gasp and moan. He felt her gently pull on his head, and raised it. She pushed her lips against his in a crushing, passionate kiss, and thrust her tongue into his mouth. He moaned and sucked on her tongue, keeping it in his mouth, rubbing his against hers.

Zoey moaned loudly, and started moving against him, pushing into him. He deepened and quickened his movements, moaning as well, feeling her tongue eagerly explore his mouth. She then pulled away, moaning loudly, the moaning interrupted with gasps. Waves of pleasure rocked through her body with the force of a Tank punching a target. She moaned her loudest, clenched her fists, then fell slightly limp. Francis groaned, pushed into her and held, then shuddered. He pushed himself to the side as he went limp to keep from crushing her.

Zoey kissed him, and that's when they heard it.

Allie was awake, and she was crying.


	5. The Pain of Love

Francis quickly shoved his boxers and pants on, zipping, buttoning, and buckling. He stood and quickly rounded the couch. He sat on the edge, then, remembering she liked to be held and cuddled, he reached out to pull her into his lap. He gripped her arms, but she screamed, kicked, and pulled away, staring at him in pain and accusation. He frowned. His eyes widened when it dawned on him. _What did I do? What was I thinking?_

_You weren't, _he responded to himself. He reached out again. "Allie, I am so, so sor-"

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, pulling away more, reopening the bullet wounds. He frowned deeper and reached out again. "Don't fuckin' touch me!"

She slashed at him, angry tears spilling down her face. She then put on hand over the front bullet wound, leaning back against the arm of the couch, crying normally. Francis bit his lip, breathing deeply to keep from crying himself. "Allie, I'm sorry... I wasn't thinking..."

He felt his voice start to crack, so stopped talking. Allie stared at him, crying, pulling his shirt down over her legs to cover herself. He looked at the bloodstains from the wounds, then breathed and sighed deeply. "Allie... will you... at _least _let me dress that wound? Please?"

Allie's crying had softened, the initial horror of what he'd just done _in front of her _fading. She found it hard to stay mad at him. She sniffled, then nodded. Francis smiled softly, then went to get up. Allie grabbed his hand, keeping him from leaving. Literally, she wasn't. She looked like she hadn't eating in months; like she weighed a maximum of eighty-something pounds. He looked back at her. "I have to get the first aid."

She shook her head, her long black hair waving in front of her face, her pupils dilating and contracting like crazy. He sighed, then gently pulled her to him, wrapping his arm around her. He slid his arm under her legs, then lifted her, holding her close to his chest. She uttered a weak protest, pulling his shirt down, his arm against her lower injury. He rubbed her arm gently, walking over to the table their supplies were on. "I'm not goin' to hurt you, Allie. Only help."

She looked at him as he set her down on the table, then smiled softly and nodded. He dumped the medical supplies from the previously-opened medkit on the table, taking the two cotton patches and putting disinfectant on them, wrapping the edges with medical tape. He reached over, gripped her shirt, and went to lift. She plastered her arms to her sides and looked at him. He sighed. "Allie... I'm not that Hunter. I'm not going to do anything bad to you. I won't touch you."

She continued to look at him. "Allie, I swear. I will not touch you. In harm or anything. Not more than I have to."

Allie frowned softly, but lifted her arms. Francis smiled softly. "Thank you."

He lifted her shirt off. His brows raised at what he saw. If he'd wanted to, he could've counted her ribs. And her chest... was _**flat.**_ He cleared his throat and looked away. He grabbed the patches. "This'll probably sting."

He pressed the patches against the wounds. Allie screamed, kicked, and grabbed his arm. He flexed his arm to keep from her pushing it away. "Sorry... sorry. I told you it'd sting."

Allie sniffled, keeping her grip on his arm but not pushing. Francis smoothed the tape against her skin, then looked at her. "I need my arm back."

When she didn't let go, he chuckled. "You can have it back later, okay?"

She nodded and let go. He smiled, unrolled some gauze, and started wrapping her chest. When he was done, about half the roll was gone from both her leg and torso. He started packing things up when Zoey walked over, fully dressed, holding a bundle of cloth. "Hey. How ya doing?"

Allie looked at her uncertainly, then at Francis. He smiled and nodded. "Okay... I guess," she responded to Zoey, her arms wrapped around her waist.

Zoey set the bundle on the table. "Well, I found some clothes you could wear. They're probably way too big, bu it's better than walking around naked."

Francis raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly. Zoey slapped the back of his head gently as she went over and helped him. She then pulled his head down and kissed him. He smiled and kissed her back. She kissed him again, and he responded, sliding his fingers into one of the back pockets of her jeans and squeezing slightly. She smiled against his lips, looking into his eyes. Allie scowled, watching them. She yanked the shirt on, thankful it was too long. She pulled the underwear and sweatpants on, then crossed her arms over her chest, clearing her throat. "Excuse me, I'm still here. That'll be changing shortly so you two can fuck freely."

Both Francis and Zoey looked at her in surprise. Both understood her touchiness, but... _that?_ Francis blinked, pulling his hand out of Zoey's pocket. "Get some things together, Zo. We'll be leaving within the next hour. I just have to talk to a little someone."

Zoey nodded. Francis turned to Allie, who tried to push herself off and away from him, afraid she was in trouble. But he was quicker, and wrapped an arm around her torso, hooking the other under her knees. He then walked out of the safehouse, to a bench, and sat on it, placing Allie on his knee. She watched him for five minutes. He was quiet the whole time. Scared tears started falling down Allie's cheeks. He sighed, then looked at her, wiping her tears away. "Allie?"

She looked at him. "Listen to me. I know that you're... against sexual activity right now because of what that Hunter did to you. And I understand that. You know those bruises on Zoey's neck?"

Allie nodded. "I did that," he continued. "Before I found you. I didn't mean to," he added quickly, seeing her face. "Zoey was trying to get me to have sex with her, like we did, but earlier I was against it. I was, in a way, afraid of it. But she cares, and has the best intentions at heart. SO believe me when I say I understand you. But what you said back there... that was..."

Allie sighed, looking away. "Too much and cruel..."

Francis smiled softly, and gently rubbed her arm. "It was too much, yes. Not necessarily cruel. You said it because you're hurting."

She sighed and sniffled. "I was... angry. I know I shouldn't've been... but to see and hear you enjoying it so much... and all I got was pain? I just... made me..."

"Jealous?"

She sighed, blushing softly. "In a way..."

Francis chuckled softly. "Again, understandable." She smiled, still blushing. "What doesn't make sense to me, though, is that you chose to comment during me and Zoey kissing. Allie... have you ever kissed or been kissed before?"

She shook her head. He frowned. "How about by parents? Other relatives?"

Again she shook her head. "Mom and Baba hated me, and I didn't know anyone else in my family."

Francis looked at her in shock, then stroked her hair, pulling it back off her forehead. "That must've sucked. Look at me?"

She looked up at him, then froze when he pressed his lips against her forehead. He smiled, pulled away slightly, then dipped and kissed her again, and then again. By then tears were free-falling. He pulled away and straightened, smiling softly. She smiled back, then 'fell' forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his stomach. She pressed her face against his chest, taking comfort from the warmth of his skin, and cried.

He rubbed her back in soothing circles, gently lying his cheek against her head. She cried for about twenty minutes. Then Zoey walked out, holding his vest and belt, a knapsack on her back. She smiled seeing them, knowing that the crying wasn't really bad. She shook her head. _The pain of love, _she thought. _World can't go without it._


	6. Heartbreak

Francis looked at Zoey as Allie quieted, still rubbing the little girl's back. He smiled. "Thanks, Zo." He gently pushed Allie back, then slipped his vest on. She frowned and looked at him. He smiled softly. "We've got to get movin'. If you want, I'll carry you."

Allie nodded, then pushed herself off of his knee so he could get his belt on. She gawked at the size of it. It'd look like a girl scout's sash on her. Francis looked at her, then laughed softly seeing her face. He hooked his hands in her armpits and lifted her, popping her up until she was basically sitting on his arm, her legs on each side of his body. "Hey, I'm a big guy. I need a big belt."

Allie looked at him, then giggled. Zoey handed Francis his shotgun. "Okay, Daddy. You can shoot one-handed, right?"

Francis chuckled. "Yes, I can. Easily."

Zoey grinned. "Good. Let's go."

She stood up on tiptoes and kissed him. He stiffened, worried about Allie. But when he looked at her, all he saw was a smile; a true smile. Francis smiled, then shifted her and kissed Zoey back. He started walking, holding the shotgun. He frowned. "Did I remember to reload this from when I blasted the bastard raping Allie?"

He felt Allie cringe, and cringed inwardly himself. Zoey shook her head. "No, but I did it for you."

Francis frowned, but nodded. "Thanks."

He rubbed Allie's leg gently. "Sorry 'bout mentioning that..."

Allie shrugged, then sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, smiling. He smiled back, and continued, making sure that the closest zombie, aside from Allie, stayed far away. Allie sighed, and he shivered, her breath ice-cold, blasting against his neck. He then felt a spot of warmth, and his brows raised when he realized it was Allie kissing his neck gently. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, then smiled softly. He looked forward, then around, and stopped dead in his tracks. He looked behind him, praying that she'd maybe just fallen behind. But no... she was gone. Zoey was no where to be seen. "Zoey?"

His blood chilled when he heard her scream. He held Allie tightly and sprinted towards her screams, which were impossibly far away. "ZOEY!"

He heard her scream again, then it was cut off. That's when he saw her. She was half-way up the wall of a building, constricted by a Smoker's tongue. The tongue had wrapped itself around a leg, her waist, and then her neck. She was scrabbling at the slick muscle, her face turning an ugly purple, unable to breathe. Francis went to shoot the Smoker, then paused. If he shot it, she'd fall, and he couldn't catch her because he was holding Allie. If he didn't shoot, she'd choke to death.

He watched as Zoey went unconscious, unable to do anything. The Smoker dropped her, almost gently depositing her on the ground and pulling his tongue back up, running away. Francis ran up to her, gently setting Allie down and falling to his knees next to Zoey's form. He jerked and started crying when her eyes opened, and the first thing she did was pull in a ragged, wheezing breath. She coughed, and blood started dribbling out of her mouth. He shook his head, then gently collected her in his arms, holding her to him.

Zoey wheezed, then reached out and grabbed his hand in his. She looked up at him. "Francis..."

Francis gently squeezed her hand, awarded with a grimace on her part. "Shh... Zo, it's okay... we're gonna get you all fixed up, ya hear? We're gonna find evac, we're gonna get ya to a hospital, and we're gonna git you all fixed up."

He gently pulled her into his arms, then stood. He looked at Allie. "Can you shoot a shotgun?"

Allie picked up his shotgun, then looked at it. She shook her head. He sighed. "Can you use those claws of yours, then?"

She nodded. "Against everything 'cept a Tank."

Francis nodded. "Hopefully we won't run into one of those. C'mon."

He started walking, and Allie walked next to him. Zoey's head rested against his chest, and one arm hung limply. Allie frowned and started crying silently. They walked for an hour, Zoey getting worse and worse. Suddenly, Francis saw a helicopter. "Evac..."

He hurried forward, and showed them Zoey. Not ten minutes later, they were on the helicopter to the air craft carrier, he, Allie, and Zoey. About half-way through the flight Zoey woke again. "Francis..." she rasped, looking up at him. Her eyes were pained and dull, no life in them. Francis looked down at her, swallowing hard. "I'm right here, Zo..."

She smiled softly, some life back in her eyes. She reached up and stroked his cheek, rubbing her thumb against the cheek bone. "I love you..."

Her eyes faded, and her hand fell limply across her chest. Francis froze, then quickly put two fingers against her neck, checking for a pulse. Everything was quiet. He choked, tears flowing quickly. "No... Zoey..."

He lifted her and cried into her chest. Allie carefully closed her eyes with her palms, crying. She sat next to him and put her hand on his thigh, rubbing gently, trying to comfort him as much as possible. At the end of the flight, he stepped out, cold, quiet; like stone. Zoey's head and arm hung limply... it was all too easy to tell she was dead. Two soldiers came over, and took the body from him. "She'll get the same as the soldiers, sir," one said, trying to make it easier.

He ignored them. Allie grasped his hand and led him to a room, looking concerned. "Francis...?"

Francis looked at her with blank eyes. She cringed - he looked dead. Like there was nothing. She climbed into his lap and rubbed his arms and chest gently, watching him. He didn't change. Then they were called to the 'funeral'. He didn't go up, but Allie did. She pulled one of the soldiers away. "C...Can I have her jacket? Please? I need something to remember her by..."

The soldier nodded and got it, bringing it back. Allie hugged it tightly, then went to Francis. She held it out and forced a smile. His face remained apathetic. Allie sighed and hugged the jacket tightly again.

Zoey's coffin was put in the furnace. Allie and Francis were back in the room. Francis had gotten some alcohol from the soldiers. Six bottles. He'd gone through four already, and was working on the fifth. Allie walked over. "Francis...?"

He looked at her, and suddenly, rage was in his eyes, almost as if he'd just realized something that she'd done. "You! It was your fault!"

Allie jerked, frowning. "My fault...? Francis, what's-"

Francis stood, slamming the bottle down. He jabbed a finger into Allie chest. "It's your fault Zoey's dead!"

Allie started crying. "How... h-how is it my fault?"

He advanced. "If you hadn't've come I could've caught her! I would've been keeping a better watch on her! But I was holding you! Watching you! YOU KILLED ZOEY!"

With that he arced his hand back and backhanded Allie. She pivoted and fell, sliding several feet. She looked up at him, her cheek bleeding from the force of his slap. She stood, crying hard but quietly. Francis took another step and slapped her again. This time she got up and scrambled out of the room. She turned before she ran off, both cheeks bloody. "You fucking bastard! I did not! Kill! Zoey! The fucking Smoker did!"

Then she turned and ran. Francis threw the beer bottle at her, hitting her in the back of the head. She stumbled and fell, landing hard on her face. She got back up, her nose bleeding, and ran as fast as she could away from him.

She stayed away for a month, scared to death. And for that month, he drowned his sorrows, forgetting about her, only making Zoey's death worse as he sat on it and got drunk night after night. Allie watched him the whole time, watching her Francis slowly slip away. _Francis... come back. Please... I need you._

** _Sorry about the sudden shift; the change in name and content and all that stuff. But this... just... happened, and 'Unlikely' and the summary didn't fit anymore. I've never read a story where Zoey dies, so... yeah. I decided to kill her off... don't get me wrong. I love the college girl. But she's not invincible._**


	7. Mending In Process

_**A month and a half has passed. The soldiers no longer supply Francis with alcohol, so slowly, he returns to reason and humanity...**_

Francis sighed, beating himself up over the fact he'd scared Allie away. He needed her now. _He _needed _her_. He'd asked the soldiers to keep an eye out for her, but it seemed she'd disappeared.

Until, that is, she walked into his room, hesitantly, like she'd rather be _anywhere_ other than there. She sighed, doing what she could to keep herself from turning around and walking out. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Francis...?"

Francis looked up, and paused. He quickly stood and walked over. She cringed and closed her eyes, holding her breath, waiting for the pain. But instead, she felt his strong arms wrap tightly around her, squeezing gently. The big guy was crying. She opened her eyes. He'd collapsed in front of her and hugged her, his hold tight and loving, his tears soaking into her shirt. He lifted his head, and pulled back, his hands gripping her shoulders loosely. "I am so, so sorry, Allie. I know it's wrong of me to ask... but... will you forgive me?"

Allie frowned, causing more tears to fall as she looked like she was seriously considering saying 'No.' He looked at her cheeks. Stitches held the split flesh together, and the skin around them was black, blue, and red. Even after this time they looked fresh. He reached up and gently touched her chin, and she winced, pulling away. Francis quickly pulled his hand back.

Allie sighed, looking at him. She was standing here with physical injuries. He had nothing but emotional injuries. And he was asking forgiveness? _Forgive, and be forgiven. _She sighed, and looked at him. "You're forgiven. If you can forgive me."

Francis looked into her eyes. "You've done nothing..."

Allie shook her head. "I have. I pulled the attention my way. You had nothing on Zoey, which was how the Smoker got to her."

He looked at her, then pulled her into another hug. This one she returned. "You're forgiven," he whispered, holding her tightly. He never wanted to let her go. He was so afraid he'd lose her too. He pulled back, and absently went to stroke her cheek gently. She quickly shied away, pulling out of his arms. Uncertainty towards him was still visible in her eyes. She had no idea if this gentle streak was just temporary.

He held back more tears. Before Zoey's death, Allie seemed like she'd stuck herself to him like glue. She trusted him. Now it seemed she regarded him like the Hunter that'd raped her. Like it was all she could do not to turn and run. He reached out and gently grabbed her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Please, Allie... I can't lose you, too. There'd be nothing left for me."

Allie bit her lip. She herself couldn't not have him alive. It was hard enough to keep away. But somehow, harder to be in his arms. He'd hurt her. Why should she trust him? She sighed, then took a step forward, leaned her forehead against his shoulder, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He gently wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her to him. She yawned loudly, rubbing her eyes carefully. She felt Francis' grip tighten, and he stood. She struggled slightly. She didn't want him lifting her yet.

He held her, walking over to the bed and gently setting her on it. "You're tired. I can see it. Get some sleep."

She looked at him. He needed a shave. Most importantly, he needed sleep, too. "You, too, Francis. Get in bed."

He looked at her, then sighed. He climbed into the bed, going to the far side and lying against the wall, one of the pillows between his arm and head. Allie crawled over to him, then laid on her back against him, sighing and closing her eyes.

Not ten minutes later, they were both asleep.


	8. Process Complete

Francis woke after what seemed like five minutes, but by listening, knew it'd been hours. It was quieter. Almost silent. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. He slowly swept an arm down, hugging the sleeping Allie gently, holding her to him. He rubbed her arm gently, smiling, glad she was back. It was different holding her than another person. She was... just right. She was just tall enough to fit comfortably against his chest, waist, and legs. Just small enough to rest comfortably in his arms. She seemed to literally fit him, like their bodies had been created with the other's in mind.

He didn't know she woke when she did. She kept her eyes closed, which didn't help. It was all she could do not to start giggling when he started humming what seemed to be a lullaby. His voice wasn't all the bad, and he could carry a tune. The song was unknown, but it was soothing. The level and softness of his voice helped. It was deep and rich, his chest vibrating with the action. She almost fell asleep again when he stopped. She smiled softly. "I liked that."

She felt him jerk and giggled. He looked at her. "How long have you been up?"

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Since a couple seconds before you started humming that song. What was it?"

Francis was quiet for a while, and she was afraid she'd offended him by listening. "Hushabye Mountain," he finally answered. "One of the few things I remember from my childhood."

Allie smiled, then snuggled against his chest. "It was pretty. It almost put me to sleep again."

Francis blushed, glad it was dark. Then with a start he remembered that she could see in the dark, which only brightened the blush. She looked up, saw it, then bit her lip, trying to hold back laughter. "Fr-Francis... you, uh, got a little something on your cheeks."

She then pushed herself onto her elbows and kissed each cheek gently. She pulled away and looked at his face, then fell back, not able to hold the laughter. Francis frowned, and she quickly regained control. "I'm... I'm sorry. It's just weird... to see a blush on _your_ face."

Francis rolled his eyes, then chuckled himself. "Well, it was weird to feel it."

Allie sighed, then hugged him tightly, wincing when his prickly stubble scraped her cheeks. "I'm glad you're back, Francis. The Francis that hurt me was... scary."

Francis sighed and pushed her back. "That Francis was the same one as me. Right now I'm just sober."

Allie sighed and looked at him. "Then stay sober? Please? I can't guarantee I'll come back if you hurt me again..."

He bit his lip, then pulled her close and hugged her, careful of her cheeks. "I'll do my best. Just make sure I don't get any alcohol."

She nodded, then smiled and kissed his neck gently. "Unless I'm supervising?"

He arched a brow, looked down at her, then laughed. "I guess. Unless you're supervising. Doesn't mean you get any."

Allie pouted, causing him to laugh more. "Oh, alright! You'd get some too."

She grinned, then hugged him tighter, wincing again. He frowned and pushed her back again. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Your stubble just... hurts my cheeks."

Francis frowned and nodded. He ran his hand over his jaw, and looked as if he was just now feeling the hair casting a 'shadow' over it. "Hm... maybe I need to shave. Unfortunately, I don't have any razors, or a knife... or shaving cream."

Allie sighed, then looked around. "Well... since you're fresh out of Thinking, I can offer some Help. You have a sink and soap. And you have me. Problem solved."

He arched a brow, looking at the bathroom, then back at her. "Do you mind clearing that up for me?"

Allie sighed and rolled her eyes. "Soap works just as well as shaving cream. Baba used to use it when there wasn't enough cash available to buy shaving cream. Lather your jaw up with soap, and then I'll use these."

She held up her claws, and bit her lip when alarm flashed in his eyes. "I'll be careful, I promise... I'm not Sweeny Todd. And I've shaved faces before. Just get a fricken chair."

Francis sighed and nodded, then got up. He stretched all the sleep from him, then got his boots on and walked out to get a chair. Allie walked into the bathroom, flicking the light on. Sink handles looked - and were - easy to operate, soap was his job. She looked at her claws, wondering if they actually would work. She ran one up her arm, and her brows shot up when she removed it. A patch of skin was visible through the thin hair that coated the limb. These definitely would make sufficient razors. Razors would be better, but her claws would do. Francis walked in with a chair, and set it in front of the sink. He turned the water on, lathered the soap, then soaped his jaw. He sat in the chair and looked at her. "Alright Allie. I'm all yours. Just don't screw my face up."

Allie rolled her eyes but giggled, then walked over, flexing her left hand. She fisted it, with her thumb pressed tightly against her first finger, the claw stuck straight up. She rested it gently on his skin, and stroked forward slightly, about and inch. She removed her claw, and beamed. The skin was bare. She cleaned her claw and continued with the inch-clean-inch pattern. "Francis, haven't you ever seen Edward Scissorhands?"

"M-hm. I loved that movie."

Allie grinned. "Then relax. Edward didn't kill anybody. I won't either."

Francis frowned. "He shaved people?"

Allie shrugged. "I dunno. But he trimmed those wigs like a lunatic. The bushes, too. No one complained of confettied scalps. Now _relax._"

Francis sighed, and did so, sliding down the chair some and leaning his head back slightly. She smiled and kissed his temple. "Thank you."

She resumed shaving him. She edged around what he'd originally had, leaving the mustache-goatee combo, trimming it cleanly. Ten minutes after she started, she was done with the one side. "You know, your neck needs it, too."

She frowned when he tensed. "I dunno... it's my _neck_ we're talking about here."

Allie growled. "Francis, have I sliced you yet? Have I _not_ been careful?"

Francis sighed. "No, you haven't sliced me. And you've been very careful." He reached up and gingerly touched his jaw. "Very efficient as well. But you're _not _a razor... and it's my _neck_."

Allie dropped her claws, staring at him. He blinked a few times and looked over at her, then rolled his eyes. "Alright! Alright. After you're done we'll do my neck."

She smiled, kissed his temple, and continued. "I never lose. One way or another I win."

Francis chuckled softly, then relaxed again and let her continue cleaning his jaw of stubble. She was very gentle, and the position wasn't all that uncomfortable. Soon he started falling into something like a doze. He jerked awake when she prodded him. "Francis? Did you fall asleep?"

He looked over at her, and frowned. "Noo."

She giggled. The way he said that clearly gave it away as 'yes'. "Well, I didn't mean get relaxed enough to fall asleep."

Francis shrugged, then straightened and lathered the soap again. "Not my fault. You're the one stroking me like a cat."

Allie giggled again, then watched as he applied the lather to his neck and laid back again. She smiled softly as she stepped up. "If I'm even gentler on your neck, will you fall asleep quicker?"

He smirked and shrugged. "Maybe."

He closed his eyes, and she got to work. He barely felt her claw brush his skin. He arched a brow slightly as she started to hum what sounded like 'Hushabye Mountain'. _I though she didn't know that? _Her humming only quickened his plummet into slumber. Allie's voice was soft and sweet, and pleasantly high, sliding smoothly out into the room.

Allie smiled softly when she heard his breathing soften, indicating he was asleep. It would make it slightly easier to shave his neck, since he wasn't awake to worry about her slicing his neck. As if she would. _But I guess he has reason. He's afraid I want him to pay for my pain. _She sighed. _Well, I'm not like that._ She gently dragged her finger up his throat, then cleaned it, then dragged it up again. She stopped humming after five minutes, then continued, then stopped again. She listened to his soft, carefree snoring. She finished his neck, and sighed. She didn't want to wake him up. He looked so peaceful. So instead, she got the towel, then carefully and gently wiped his jaw and neck down, removing the soap. She looked at his skin, then at his face. He looked better when he didn't have a beard trying to grow, when all he had was his Van Dyke. She smiled, then set the towel down. She walked over to him, and kissed his newly-shaven cheek. "I love you, Francis."

In his sleep, he smiled. "Love you too, Allie."

She watched him, thinking he was awake. When his snoring resumed, she smiled. She walked out of the bathroom, flipping the lightswitch, then climbed onto the bed. She laid down, feeling like something was wrong. Then she giggled. What was wrong? Francis wasn't there for her to snuggle against. She closed her eyes, and went back to sleep, lulled by his deep, steady breathing.


	9. Gutless Heartbreak

Francis frowned, mumbled something, then shouted and jerked, tilting the chair backwards and falling down, landing hard. He groaned, holding his head. "Ow..."

He blinked, looking around in confusion, slowly rolling himself off the chair, wincing as the back dug sharply into his side. Where was he? He spotted a mirror, then the sink. "Oh... I'm in... the bathroom? What the hell?"

He stood, holding his head still, rubbing the back. He looked out, then saw Allie curled up on his bed, shivering softly. Then he remembered, and smiled softly. He walked over to the bed, then got on it, trying not to wake Allie. He laid between her and the wall, slowly resting on his side. He noticed her shivering, then gently pulled her close, rubbing her arm, side, and leg gently to warm her, hugging her. She went still after a while, and smiled, snuggling tightly against him. Tears sprung in his eyes, but he held them back. Hugging her closely, he went back to get some much needed sleep, falling asleep to her gently breathing.

She woke a few hours later, then smiled widely when she felt Francis behind her. She rolled over and buried her face against his chest, sighing into it. Francis shuddered and woke with a start, feeling as if ice was pressed against his chest. He looked down, and noticed that she'd turned over, breathing against his chest. He noticed she was awake and looking up at him. "Allie?"

She blinked. "Yes?"

He smiled softly. "If _you _get cold from your breath, imagine how _I _feel."

Allie frowned, then pulled back, lying on her back. "Sorry. It's just... you're so _warm_."

Francis laughed softly. "Yes, perhaps, but your breath is fricken cold. Feels like I'm sleeping with ice."

Allie's frown deepened slightly, and she looked away. Francis sighed, reached across, and gently turned her back. "That's not a bad thing. Wait until summer. Then I'll be _asking_ for it. _Begging _even."

She looked out, then back at him. "How long until summer?"

Francis shrugged. "I dunno. Coupl'a months, maybe? Time'll fly, you'll see."

Allie sighed, then turned over and laid against him again, her back against his skin. "If you stay like this. I _still _feel your slaps."

He cringed, not wanting to remember hurting her. He put a hand on her shoulder and gently rubbed down her arm, then back up. "Tell me if I start to get bad in the future. I... don't think I could pull myself back together if I hurt you again. Especially if it's like this."

He gingerly touched her cheek, and she steeled herself, not flinching. He smiled, then rubbed her arm again. "That's my strong girl."

Allie grinned widely, tears falling. She turned slightly and hugged his arm. He wrapped his arm around her torso and hugged her tightly but gently, kissing the top of her head. "You're all I got, girl. Promise me you'll stay?"

Allie nodded. He looked at her. "Through thick and thin?"

She paused and thought about it. "To a reasonable thin. A bloody cheek from a _slap_ and I'm out."

He cringed again. "It's bad enough I have to look at what I did... Allie, I don't think I can ever show how sorry I am that I did that. But the alcohol, plus Zoey... it added up to more than I could handle. I took it out on the first person I could think of. And since my mind was on Zoey, naturally it strayed to you. I am sorry I took it out on you."

She smiled softly and nodded. "I understand. I really do. And I forgive you... there's no reason for you to explain what happened and why it happened." She turned, and looked up at him. "I still love you. I'll always love you, kinda like a dad, no matter what you do. It's only a fear for my life that I'd leave."

Francis looked at her, then gathered her up and a big, long, loving hug. He kissed her forehead. She smiled, then kissed his cheek, returning the hug. He then cleared his throat, and checked the time. "They're probably serving breakfast. I'm going to go get some. Want any- never mind. I'll just give you the sweet treat and packet. If you're hungry."

Allie nodded. "Famished."

Francis grinned, then got up, carefully got over her, then walked out and down towards the mess hall. Allie sighed, then stretched and got up, sighing, and walked out. She wanted some fresh air, and the only way to get that was the top deck. She slowly climbed the ladder, then stood on the deck, breathing deeply. She breathed just right and doubled over, coughing, blood dribbling out of her mouth. She stood straight, took a deep breath, and let the blood out, not holding it back.

She turned around, and screamed. Marines had come up behind her, off to the side of the ladder, their guns pointed at her. Quick as lightning she jumped down, sliding the whole way. She hit the bottom and started running, the Marines seconds behind her. She sped down the hall, hands in front of her, her front bloody, screaming. She neared their room, and considered ducking in, but realized she'd be a sitting duck if she did. So she continued, towards the mess hall. _Francis is there! He'll protect me!_

She ran into the mess hall. "Francis!"

Francis turned, and saw her. He grabbed her up in his arms as she neared, holding her protectively. The Marines skidded to a halt, their guns trained on the little girl's heaving form. Francis scowled. "What are you doing? Trying to scare her to death?"

One of the soldiers shook his head, lowering the weapon in his hands. "No. W-we were chasing a Witch. She was all b-bloody, so we-we thought she'd... she'd..."

Francis rubbed her back, trying to calm her. "Well, she didn't. She was either up for fresh air or searching for me. Most likely fresh air since she knew I was here."

The other soldiers, except for one, lowered their weapons as well. He then pulled his pistol, aiming it at Francis. "Put her down. She's Infected, and she has no right to be on this ship. It's for Carriers and Immune only."

Francis looked at him nonchalantly, tightening his grip on Allie for a moment, then loosened it, pulling her away slightly to look at her face. "Allie? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

Allie wiped her eyes, shaking her head. He smiled, then shouted and fell when the soldier shot him in the leg. Allie landed jarringly on her ass, then saw the blood pumping out of the wound. She screamed in anger, got up, turned, and rushed the soldier. He switched back to his shotgun, then clipped her on the side of the head. She stumbled, dazed, to the side. The soldier turned, leveled his shotgun, and fired.

Allie gasped and screamed, her scream cut off by the second shot. Blood and guts splattered the wall behind her after the third shot. She looked down, her mouth open, twisted in pain. She fell to her knees, trying to breath, half of her lungs gone. A sizable hole was present in her gut. Her lungs - what was left of them - the remains of her intestines, and some of her ribs were visible. Her heart as well. She fell, convulsing, landing on her back. Her arms stayed up at her sides, her hands partially flexed. She started choking, blood welling from between her lips, her eyes going blank.

Francis finally got his voice back. "Nooooooo!" He got up, then collapsed, slightly closer to her. She wasn't dead yet. Her heart was beating slowly, blood was pooling. Her head turned to the side, and her eyes fell on him. She convulsed again, more blood leaking out of her mouth. She opened her mouth, gagging, a bloodbubble forming. "Fr-"

Francis crawled closer, crying. "Fra-"

She blinked, then convulsed yet again, something snapping. He forced himself to look. Ribs. Her heart was beating forcefully, trying to thrive. She gagged again, and blood started dribbling out of her nose. "I... l-loo-loovvve..."

She convusled violently, more ribs snapping. Her heart beat, a pause, then beat again. She looked at him with blind, dead eyes. 'I love you.'

_**Thump...one...two... Thump...one...two...three... Thump...one...two...three...four... Thu-**_

Francis choked as her heart fell still. He reached up and stroked her forehead, then kissed it. He closed her eyes, then collapsed, crying so hard that he blacked out.


	10. The Ultimate End For the Ultimate Loss

_Two months have passed since the soldiers brutally murdered Allie for defending me. I've done nothing but sit in my room. I eat, sleep... Otherwise nothing... I'm not alive. Nothing is left in this world for me. Why should I stay in it...?_

Francis stared at the wall in front of him, the gruesome image of Allie's guts splattered across the wall in the mess hall still in his mind. He reflexively hugged; Allie was supposed to be in his arms. _Instead, her ashes... _He started crying again, holding his face in his palms. "Allie..." he sobbed. "You promised me..."

He ran his hands down his face, turning the waterworks up a notch as his beard reminded him of her shaving his face for him. After he'd split her cheeks, she'd found it in her to forgive him. What'd she get back for the goodness of her heart? She got to decorate the walls with her insides.

He laid back, thinking for a second of smothering himself with the pillows. Them, the bed, and the amount of tears he was shedding would be enough. No... he believed there was something after death, and different deaths got you in different places. He wanted to die. There was nothing for him here. But what to do? What to do to get them to blast him to where Allie was? He fell asleep thinking on that.

When Francis woke, he had an idea. But he'd let time pass. A week, maybe, to learn the soldier who was his target. And he gave him a week. He was in the mess hall, alone, for nearly ten minutes at 12:10. After that, other soldiers would come in. Armed. That was his ticket out. He had to use the ten minutes to cause the soldier as much pain as possible before killing him in front of the soldiers. That was punishable by death. That's what he needed.

He walked to the mess hall, and sat outside, the combat knife tucked safely in his vest. The soldier didn't give him so much as a second glance as he walked by. Francis stood, and tapped the soldier's shoulder. He turned - it was his target. He fisted his hand and let it fly. The soldier's nose crunched, and he stumbled back. Instantly, he started fighting back, but Francis had already drawn the blade. He sliced the soldier's arms, first shallow, then deep. Soon he was bleeding pretty badly. The soldier started kicking, and he took a few, then started slicing them. He lunged forward and stuck the blade in his stomach. He gasped and the blade went an inch in, then pulled out. Francis stuck him twice more.

He kicked the soldier in the nuts, and he collapsed. He held him, slicing him if he tried to get up. Eight minutes later, the rest of the soldiers walked in. Five in total. They all stopped dead when they saw him. He stood straight, staring at them, his eyes calm. "This is for Allie."

He raised his arm, then plunged the blade deep into the soldier's neck. He screamed. Francis dragged it across his throat. He dropped, dead.

The other soldiers rushed him, too late. He dropped then knife and let them grab his arms and shove him down. One of them pointed a shotgun at his head. "Any last words, you fuckin' asshole?"

Francis blinked apathetically, then looked up. "Yeah. He deserved worse, and I regret nothing."

The soldier scowled, then pulled the trigger. After that, blackness.

_... "Allie?"_


End file.
